The Three Musketeers (The Modern Library) - Alexandre Dumas [130]
“Of course, my good man—”
“Well then, I will tell Monsieur not only what I surmise but what I know—”
“Go ahead, landlord—”
“Begging your pardon, Monsieur, this illustrious lady—”
“Yes—?”
“—this illustrious lady is no illustrious lady, Monsieur.”
“What in the world do you mean?”
“I mean the illustrious lady—”
“Speak up, man!”
“The illustrious lady—hm!—may I count upon Monsieur’s confidence—?”
“Of course; I give you my word as a gentleman—”
“Well, Monsieur, I know the lady in question—”
“You know her—?”
“Well, Monsieur, you see it was like this . . . Monsieur Porthos gave us a note addressed to his Duchess . . . we were meant to post the letter. . . . The valet had not arrived, Monsieur, so we had to do the needful because Monsieur Porthos was confined to his room—”
“Quite so. What then?”
“We did not post the letter, Monsieur, for the mails are not very safe. So I took the liberty of using one of my grooms who was going to Paris and I told him to deliver the letter himself. I was following the instructions of Monsieur Porthos, was I not? He was so insistent about the letter reaching its addressee!”
“I dare say; go on.”
“Well, Monsieur, do you know who the illustrious lady is?”
“No, my friend, I have merely heard Monsieur Porthos mention her casually—”
“Monsieur, begging your pardon, she is no duchess; she is the wife of an aged attorney at the Chätelet. Her name is Coquenard and though at least fifty she plays the jealous coquette. When I first saw the letter, Monsieur, I thought it odd that a duchess lived in the Rue aux Ours!”
“How do you know all this?”
“Well, Monsieur, when the old lady received the letter, she flew into a great rage. She hinted that Monsieur Porthos was a trifler and had been wounded in a duel over a woman.”
“So he was wounded, eh?”
“God help us, what have I said?”
“You said that Monsieur Porthos was wounded.”
“Forgive me, Monsieur, I am all too indiscreet. Monsieur Porthos forbade me to mention it.”
“Why?”
“Well, Monsieur, you see it happened like this. Monsieur Porthos boasted about riddling the stranger like a sieve but it was the stranger who pinked him, for all his boasting. Now you know what a proud gentleman Monsieur Porthos is, and how vainglorious he is, if I may say so, save in respect to his Duchess. Would you believe it, Monsieur, he wrote to Madame Coquenard all about his adventure and his gory wound but he forbids anyone else to mention it!”
“So he’s in bed with a wound, eh, landlord?”
“A masterly wound it is, Monsieur; your friend is certainly hard to kill. God bless us.”
“You saw the duel?”
“Ay, Monsieur, that I did. I was curious, that I was; and I saw the whole thing without the gentlemen knowing I was watching.”
“Tell me what happened, landlord.”
“Well, Monsieur, it was soon over, I warrant you. They fell into guard and before Monsieur Porthos could say knife, the stranger put three inches of steel in his chest . . . Monsieur Porthos fell back with a crash . . . the other gentleman pressed his swordpoint delicately to the throat of Monsieur Porthos and Monsieur Porthos gave in. . . . When the gentleman insisted on knowing whom he had bested and Monsieur Porthos told his name, he helped Monsieur Porthos back to the inn, apologized for having mistaken Monsieur Porthos for a certain Monsieur D’Artagnan, and rode away.”
“So it was Monsieur D’Artagnan the gentleman sought to fight with?”
“So it would seem, Monsieur.”
“Can you tell me what has become of this Monsieur D’Artagnan?”
“No, Monsieur, I never saw him before and I have not seen him since.”
“Good, I know what I want. You told me Monsieur Porthos was—”
“—One flight up, Monsieur. Room Number One, the best in the house. I could have rented it ten times over.”
“Pray don’t worry, my dear host!” D’Artagnan laughed. “Monsieur Porthos will pay you with funds furnished by Madame la Duchesse de Coquenard.”
“Duchess or lawyer’s wife, Monsieur, let her but draw her purse-strings and I shall be delighted. But you see, Monsieur, between you and me, she seemed to be fed up with the demands Monsieur Porthos